| Something We've Been Missing [Kakashi, Katsuko] |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|04:46 pm] |
(Takes place on April 10th, the day after This Time It's Different, and an as-yet unposted Kakashi/Genma thread.)
It could have been the start to a wonderful day. There'd even been birdsong and blue skies, which should have warned her straight off that everything was going to go to pot--but hey, she'd always been an optimist. Katsuko had rolled out of bed somewhere between late breakfast and an early lunch, shrugged on a shirt (that was, strangely, several sizes too big for her) and loose pants, and had made her way down to one of the training fields. Her swords she'd left in their gleaming armor stand on her dresser, not wanting to handle live steel when she was still sleep-dazed. Dredging up the effort to go find her wooden practice bokken had been quite beyond her, so it was only with her hand-wraps and work-out bag that she found her way down to the wooded field near the outskirts of the Village.
She hadn't practiced her kata in gods-only-knew how long, so after contemplatively chewing on a stale meal bar for a few minutes she sighed, stretched, and started on the first empty-hand set.
It didn't take long for her to fall into the half-trance that repetitive movement and exertion induced, sweat running from her hairline and the nape of her neck as she kicked and spun her way across the clearing. Worries, petty annoyances, the latest mission with Ryouma--it all faded away. There was just her, the wind, and the next move in the pattern-dance.
Of course, then it all went to pot. |
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| Never What I Expected [Chihiro, Ginta] |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|01:29 pm] |
Takes place April 6th, immediately following Meant to Live
Chihiro gave her grandson three hours. Three hours to talk to Sakumo's son, calm himself down, and get over his unspeakable rudeness. She used her three hours for a social call on an old friend, who agreed completely with Chihiro that Ginta had been far out of line, but he was Gousuke's grandson, what could you do? At least he was recovering. But after all the worry he'd put Chihiro through...
The matter of Ginta's choice of friends also came up, though not, thank heavens, his deviance. Still, Sakumo's son all grown up, imagine that. How far had that particular apple landed from the tree?
She went by her kimono maker's shop, and looked through the bolts of summer silk that had just arrived, choosing a sedate blue with a subtle pattern of koi at the bottom for herself. In memory of Gousuke, of course. For her daughter she picked something a little more vibrant, grass green with darting purple dragonflies. Yukari would like it, and it would make a nice gift. And she would give last summer's mauve kimono with the geometric pattern to her maid Suki. Suki had liked that one, she remembered, especially with the dark green obi. So the dark green obi with it. Yes.
By the time she had finished, she judged that Ginta had had more than enough time to visit with Sakumo's son, especially so soon after surgery. He should be resting not confronting his... What was Kakashi? An ex-lover, or at the very least a boy that Ginta had been pining over. Her lips twisted at the thought as if she tasted something sour.
( It was time, she told herself, that Ginta stopped this nonsense. ) |
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| Mightier Than the Sword. (Arakaki & Sandaime) |
[Feb. 8th, 2010|07:26 pm] |
(Set two days after How Many Ways Do You Wanna Die?, September 17th, four years post Kyuubi.)
Sarutobi Hiruzen, Konoha's third Hokage, did most of his important paperwork at night. It was a carry-over habit from his field ninja days, most likely, back when things had been simpler. And more brutal, if he was being truthful. When Konoha had been younger, sharper, and less diplomatic. When the world had been halved on the edge of a steel blade, rather than divided by the sweep of a calligraphy brush.
As one of the current brush-holders, Hiruzen wasn't entirely sure this system worked better. There was still blood -- there was always blood with ninja -- but it was stained blue now, mixed with ink.
( Also, he suspected, he was getting much less sleep nowadays. ) |
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| This Time Is Different [Ryouma, Ginta] |
[Jan. 31st, 2010|12:29 am] |
[[Takes place the morning of April 9, four days after All My Regets Are Nothing New, three days after Meant To Live, and a day and a half after Let's Not Speak of This Again.]]
The soldier pills Ryouma had taken on the long run home hadn't quite worn off when Katsuko left him in front of the hospital doors, but the corners of his vision were beginning to haze with a purple blur. He pushed his mask back and palmed another soldier pill stealthily, behind the potted plant in the foyer. The purple haze didn't go away, but the dying buzz in his veins quickened again. He smiled sunnily at the receptionist. "Morning! Got a medic free?"
The receptionist didn't smile back. Her eyes skidded from his bandaged shoulder to the glossy wetness on his hip and upper arm where the cuts had broken open and bled again, and back to the livid bruises purpling his bared arms. Her lips firmed when she met his eyes. Probably bloodshot, he guessed. At least his nose wasn't bleeding yet. Well, that was what medics were for.
Of course the medic, when he arrived, wasn't happy about it. Eight soldier pills in twenty-four hours was a hell of a stupid move, and the medic wasted no time saying so. Ryouma, who'd heard the same lecture half a dozen times before, smiled and nodded and fell half-asleep on the table. He woke with a yelp when the medic seared a budding infection out of his hip and again when the bandages peeled off his oozing shoulder. But the man's hands were steady and cool as he sank healing chakra deep into the burnt wreck Masahiko's lightning jutsu had left, and Ryouma was used to lectures.
( The IVs of saline and clotting factor helped a little; the new bottle of pain-killers helped a lot more. ) |
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| How Many Ways Do You Wanna Die? [Kakashi & Genma] |
[Jan. 22nd, 2010|08:18 pm] |
Set the morning following No Matter How We Try, four years post Kyuubi, September 16th.
Awareness came long after the sun had risen. Kakashi twitched back awake in the blank space between unhappy dreams and spent a long, thoughtful moment contemplating the green tent canvass two inches from his nose. Suguru was dead; the mission was successful. And Kakashi had definitely fallen asleep in his armour: joints and buckles and hard edges had all pressed themselves efficiently into cold flesh, leaving impressions like marks in clay. His hands were freezing, feet even more so in their open-toed sandals. His back...
His back was a long strip of heat, braced against something solid. His neck was even warmer, tickled by a gentle, intermittent stream of hot air. It smelled like ginseng and poison and morning breath.
Which made sense, given that Genma seemed to have decided the best place to sleep was wedged up tight against Kakashi's spine, with his face against Kakashi's neck. Kakashi could feel the subtle twitches of a dream-in-progress in Genma's hands, pressed into the small of his back; when he paid outward attention, he could see his own breath clouding on the morning air. The canvas was dark with cold morning dew. Birds sung undisturbed nearby: always a positive of an enemy-free forest, when the animals were relaxed.
( Kakashi warred with himself. ) |
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| Meant to Live [Kakashi & Ginta] |
[Jan. 22nd, 2010|02:36 am] |
Takes place April 6, the day after All My Regrets Are Nothing New and The Little Things Give You Away.
Kakashi woke at 6AM when a nurse put her hand on his shoulder. He didn't attack her, or flinch, or do anything much beyond crack his jaw in a yawn and bury his face deeper in the pillow. He'd been in Konoha's hospital enough times--and long enough this time--for the smell to crawl inside his skull and program his reflexes accordingly.
"Sorry, Hatake-san," the nurse whispered. "I just need to check your vitals and get some blood."
"Mmm," Kakashi agreed. He shrugged one arm free of the sheet and laid it out for her, eye still closed. He was still wearing Ryouma's hoodie; something he realized only when she had to push the sleeve up past his elbow to get the needle in.
( Maybe that explained why he'd dreamed of Ryouma. ) |
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| No Matter How We Try [Genma, Kakashi] |
[Jan. 21st, 2010|12:29 pm] |
Backstory. Set immediately following We All Have a Weakness, four years post Kyuubi, September 15th.
Kakashi might not know a damn thing about poisons, but he was the tracker. If he said there was a suitable campsite up ahead, he was probably right. A suitable, safe campsite, because deep inside Waterfall's borders only the most well-protected of locations would be worth considering for two battle-weary, poisoned, Leaf ANBU.
Which, Genma resolved to remember to point out once they were safely entrenched, Kakashi still was. Poisoned. Just because the antidote had saved him didn't mean he had nothing more to worry about. In fact it was Genma's responsibility as medic and poison specialist to check on that sooner rather than later. With only one tube of the antidote remaining to share between them, he'd need to titrate the repeat dose for Kakashi very carefully.
"How's your breathing?" he asked. "And your stomach? Are you hungry at all? Hungry would be a good sign."
Kakashi lifted his ANBU mask and gave Genma a look of rank curiosity, as if Genma had just turned orange, or suggested a swim in lava. "Are you hallucinating that you're a nice person, now?"
"I'm doing my job," Genma snapped. "And trying to make sure that you don't drop dead for want of a repeat dose of antidote."
Kakashi's eye flicked wide, then narrowed under a lowering scowl. "Repeat dose? There's only one of your tubes left and two of us. How's that going to work?" Before Genma could answer, Kakashi exhaled sharply, forcing the air out of his chest with a raw wheeze at the end. Testing. He shook his head. "It's fine. Sore, but fine."
"It will work fine, as long as we're careful. You got a much bigger hit of the toxin than I did, and I've got some immunity, or I'd have been lying on the ground choking to death hours ago." And Kakashi was breathing fine. That was also a good sign. His mask must have afforded him some protection...
And he was still wearing it.
"Take your mask off," Genma ordered.
The storm clouds that skated across Kakashi's expression were impressive.
"I'm serious. Take it off, rinse it the fuck out, and make sure you're not just re-poisoning yourself. If you go down again, and I'm not one hundred percent..." He didn't need to finish the threat. "Take it off and clean it. I promise not to look, so your modesty won't be compromised," he added with an eyeroll. |
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| We All Have a Weakness [Genma, Kakashi] |
[Jan. 14th, 2010|01:48 pm] |
Backstory. Set four years post Kyuubi, September 15th. One year after Kakashi and Genma's encounter in a safehouse shower, Love the Sounds When You Come Undone, two years after the mission where they learned to hate one another, How to Lose a Life. One year and seven months prior to Leaves' canon starting.
Genma hated several things about this mission already, not least of which was his mission partner. He ran next to Kakashi through the farmland that covered the plateau above Konoha, still well within the penumbra of their village's protection. A glance to the left showed a sea of vermilion and crimson, where autumn had set the trees aflame. That was another thing to hate: leaving Konoha at the peak of the fall flush, although if he wasn't looking for things to be unhappy about, Genma had to admit it wasn't as if they'd see no trees on their journey. But they were heading north, he grumbled to himself, and the trees to the north were more oaky, less maply, so less colorful. And anyway by the time they got back to Konoha the peak would be over.
Then there was Kakashi, with his disdainful silence, the twitching eyebrow when Genma had entered the briefing room, the dismissive snort that had stood for an answer when Genma had made what he'd considered a generous effort and greeted Kakashi with a shallow head-nod of a bow. Two years later and Kakashi still hadn't forgiven Genma for his dog's death? Just a month ago Genma had stood at the memorial stone, tracing a calloused fingertip over the names Ishida Nobuki and Oda Ayako, remembering carnage and failure, and the feeling of Ishida's heart stilling under Genma's hands. How did a dog's death weigh more heavily than that?
And one year ago there had been that... That incident in the safehouse showers. As far as Genma was concerned, that ought to have set them more than even over whatever karmic debt Genma had accumulated for failing to save Kakashi's dog. In fact the sums were looking decidedly to him like Kakashi was the one still owing something. The bastard.
( But there were other things to hate, too... ) |
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| Bringing Back the Living [Genma] |
[Jan. 14th, 2010|03:23 am] |
Backdated. Takes place in early March, one year and five months after Kyuubi's attack. One and a half weeks before Got That Mountain to Climb
The orders were clear and unambiguous; it was a retrieval mission--three ANBU were missing on a mission in Earth Country: presumed captured, feared dead. Shiomori Hiroko, ANBU Hunter, volunteered for the retrieval squad because she'd known the the agents who were missing: Kamiyama Kobo, Hoashi Seijuro, and Shiranui Genma. She knew Kobo best, a quiet, competent leader with nearly three years' service in ANBU and uncanny skills with explosives. She and Kobo had entered ANBU in the same rookie group, and had trained together, sparred together, taken missions together. Slept together. He was her friend as well as her lover, and reason enough, all by himself, for Hiroko to have volunteered.
The other two she knew less well. Hoashi Seijuro was a rookie she'd barely interacted with. But Kobo had said good things about the kid--had hand-picked him for the mission. He was young and inexperienced, but the ANBU they served in was full of the young and inexperienced. Just sixteen months ago the Fox had claimed far too many of the few seasoned veterans that the Third War had spared. For ninja like Seijuro, the four months' experience he'd gained since joining ANBU was enough. It had to be.
( Then there was Shiranui Genma ) |
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| Find Me Faithless [Kakashi & Rina] |
[Jan. 5th, 2010|11:46 pm] |
Takes place five years previously, four days after the Kyuubi attack.
Kakashi was late for Minato's funeral.
It was a village-wide affair, held at the smoke-charred base of the Hokages' monument, attended by anyone with the strength to stand. Or lean on a friend's shoulder. Or maneuver one of the wheelchairs that was suddenly a precious commodity. Several hundred shionobi, ordered by clan and rank and allegiance, clad in sober black and hitai-ate steel. More civillians, clustered into tight-knit family groups and marked by tears they felt free to shed. Masked ANBU, fringed around the edges and stiff with battle-weariness that still lingered. Dignitaries paying their respects from other villages still under treaty. Fire Country Daimyos.
The Sandaime. Jiraiya.
And Kakashi, slipping through the massed ranks like a pale wraith to stand between them, ignoring the ripple of sound that followed him. Mid-sentence, the Sandaime paused and laid a hand on his shoulder. Jiraiya slanted him a sideways look.
"Obito sends his regards, I'm guessing," he said, voice scraped deep and flat.
Tight-jawed, Kakashi jerked his shoulder. The Sandaime's hand fell away. Calm and dignified and utterly weary, the newly reinstated Hogake returned to his eulogy speech, delivering it with the measured skill of a man who'd recently had cause to practice.
( One week after the Kyuubi attack, Kakashi had lost count of funerals. ) |
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| Chasing the Sun [Genma & Raidou] |
[Jan. 5th, 2010|02:31 pm] |
WARNING: NC-17 for graphic sexual content.
Takes place in the afternoon on April 8th, immediately following Warm in the Shadows
There were two clear signs someone had been in their apartments: their beds were made with fresh sheets, and their ANBU uniforms, gear, weaponry, and masks were folded and stacked neatly at the foot of each bed. Genma couldn't speak for Raidou, but he certainly hadn't put any time into making military corners on his quilts when they'd been summoned in the wee hours two and a half weeks ago for the mission to track Yukaho and her team.
A third, less obvious, but rather gratifying sign, was that the leftover takeout containers, softened carrots, dried up half onion, and half-empty carton of spoiled milk Genma had anticipated finding in his refrigerator were not there. In fact it appeared the little cold box had been cleaned, with the assorted jars and bottles of longer keeping items (pickled ginger, mustard, miso paste, beer) carefully packed back in.
Genma gave everything a careful inspection: the piles of magazines and a half-worked sudoku he'd left on his table were still there. His shrine was undisturbed; even its oranges were still there, starting to shrivel and harden. Spare weapons, sharpening kits, clothes, books--it was all exactly as he'd left it. But the kitchen had been cleaned, the bathroom tidied and scrubbed, and there was the bed...
He plugged in his electric water heater and went to find Raidou, who was giving his own already insanely clean apartment a thorough going over. "Gotta be a D-rank, cleaning two small apartments and making the beds. But they'd only let someone with ANBU-level clearance in here. What unlucky bastards you think got that detail?" He leaned against Raidou's door frame. It felt almost surreal to be looking at him, to be back here, home. Like those two and a half weeks hadn't happened at all.
If you overlooked the bandages.
"I didn't find any bugs or traps in mine. And I started the water for the ramen. Coming?" |
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| Warm in the Shadows [Genma & Raidou] |
[Jan. 3rd, 2010|07:45 pm] |
Takes place in the early afternoon on April 8th, three days after The Shadow Proves the Sunshine
The very last thing Genma and Raidou had to do, before they could go home, was sign out with security. They were dressed in real clothes, which someone from internal ops had helpfully retrieved for them from their apartments. Genma was in jeans and a t-shirt, with an olive green hoodie over it, the left sleeve sacrificially split to accommodate the splint still holding his hand together. His arm was in a sling, held carefully close to his chest by straps of canvas, and there were still fading bruises, scabbing over cuts on his neck, and a pallor to his skin, but he was up, on his own feet. Eager to run (well, limp) free at last.
Raidou was champing at the bit to go, too. Their handlers had managed to get him similar clothes to Genma's: soft, faded jeans, a dark red t-shirt, and a brown hoodie that didn't quite hide the bandages still encasing the left side of his face and neck. If you overlooked their injuries, they were dressed for an afternoon of hanging out on any off-duty day.
"You understand your aftercare instructions?" The woman at the desk asked.
"Yeah," Genma told her. "Follow up in the outpatient clinic at 1100 tomorrow for me and 1120 for Rai, take our meds, watch for any signs of fever or infection, no workouts until we're signed off on that, no sparring, no jutsu, don't leave the village, take it easy, eat properly, get enough sleep, and don't take candy from strangers." His deadpan delivery ended with a wink.
She blinked at him, then laughed. "I see. Well then, Shiranui-san, Namiashi-san..." She pushed the sign-out sheet towards them. "I hope I don't see you back here any time soon."
Genma grinned as he took the pen from her. Signing was harder, as the paper wanted to scoot away from him, but Raidou slapped a hand down to steady it, then took the pen from Genma and signed himself out as well. |
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| Let's Not Speak of It Again [Ryouma, Katsuko] |
[Dec. 26th, 2009|11:39 am] |
[[Takes place early in the morning of April 8, the day after Something That the Knife Took and two days after Lay Your Armor Down. Titles inspired by Dashboard Confessional's song Don't Wait.]]
By the fifth mile, the shallow cut on Ryouma's hip had clotted and he was beginning to find his stride. At the fifteenth, when they paused for a breather and for Ryouma to burn his reeking gloves and scrub his crusted hands, two of Katsuko's clones peeled off to backtrack. They caught up again half an hour later, running with easy satisfaction. One of the sharp-faced masks was sprinkled with blood. Ryouma thought about asking, and decided to focus on running instead.
At least they knew the territory. When Katsuko swung in a wide west-ward circle to avoid Ashirogi Swamp, Ryouma followed her without question. When her next clone peeled off, it returned quickly with a canteen refilled from a stream running cold with snow-melt. And when, near midnight, Ryouma veered south-east again into the low forested foothills near the border of Plains and Fire Country, he found the ancient ryokan still standing among its sheltering pine-trees.
The frail, white-haired old landlady was still there, too--a little deafer, and more than a little rumpled from the bed they'd rousted her out of, but still as bright-eyed and energetic as she'd been when Ryouma had first stayed here on his way to the border five years ago. She was also obviously dying of curiosity, but any innkeeper who made half her living from ninja clientele was a past master at the art of discretion. There were no other guests at the moment, she informed them as she entered a neat spiral-leaf sigil in the register. The baths were open-air, but heated by hot-springs; they would be quite safe, too, because years of ninja guests had left the perimeter so heavily trapped that not even squirrels could cross from the forest into the ryokan grounds. (The landlady's kitchen garden fared quite well in the absence of four-legged brigands.) She would stir up the maids and have supper waiting when they finished in the baths. "And a medical kit," she added, with an unsuccessful attempt not to stare at Ryouma's shoulder and Katsuko's broken armor. "Is there anything else you require, shinobi-san?"
( 'Privacy,' Ryouma said, slinging his good arm over Katsuko's shoulders. ) |
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| Something That The Knife Took [Ryouma, Katsuko] |
[Dec. 15th, 2009|09:59 pm] |
[[Takes place April 7, the day after Lay Your Armor Down.]]
Dawn came, bright and cold.
Katsuko rolled out of her blankets and looked at Ryouma's sleeping form for a moment, then slipped outside. She flinched at the sharp morning air, coughed as it raked a freezing trail down her sinuses. The sky was stained red and gold, the rising sun hidden by a veil of wispy clouds.
Last night's conversation--the soul-baring honesty of it--scared her more than even the nightmares that followed. At least the horror of her subconscious memories was familiar. It was an old terror that she'd grown used to, if not comfortable with. Ryouma's embrace, his openness in displaying his scars, her reaction--it was all new. It was all frightening. He hadn't flinched away, hadn't changed the subject as her family did. There'd just been the silent listening, understanding, sympathy.
Confusing, how a near-stranger could offer her the comfort that her own blood relations couldn't.
The sleepy curl of chakra and a slight rustle in the tent told her Ryouma was up. Katsuko stood by the dead campfire and didn't turn around as the tent flap unzipped a minute later. The weight of his dark-eyed gaze settled on her back.
"I'm going to wash up." Her tone was matter-of-fact, brusque. She refused to glance behind her. "I'll be ready to go in ten."
She strode off toward the stream. Behind her, Ryouma lifted a hand, then dropped it. He watched her for a moment more, but said nothing. At last, he turned and went to get changed.
A few hours later, Katsuko and Ryouma were well on their way to setting the record for "Most Voluntarily Silent Mission, Ever." Masahiko's fortress was easy enough to locate, garish perversion of military architecture on the landscape as it was, and the former cloud-nin had even been considerate enough to forbid any sort of town or civilization to spring up around his walls. The number of civilian casualties would be drastically reduced, a fact that cheered Katsuko to no end. She could kill and burn to her heart's content.
They stood amidst a grove of trees on a hill directly overlooking Masahiko's fortress. The faint sound of weapons drills drifted up to them from the compound's courtyards. Miniature black dots moved with mindless (mindless-looking, down there it probably made more sense what they were doing than it looked from up here) efficiency on the fort's walls and ramps.
Katsuko stirred restlessly, turning to Ryouma. "We got a plan? Or we just going to go in there and start killing? I'm good, either way." |
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| Lay Your Armor Down [Ryouma, Katsuko] |
[Nov. 21st, 2009|10:53 am] |
Takes place April 6, the morning after All My Regrets Are Nothing New, a week after Katsuko and Ryuichi's mission in Knife's Edge and No Rest for the Wicked.
Ryouma stopped by the mission office just before breakfast, right after his morning workout and the mission desk shift change. The gangly young chuunin who manned the desk for the morning shift was new--he'd just come in a few weeks ago, after an injured knee took him off active duty for the next month or two--and unlikely to ask questions. In fact he seemed much more interested in the sudoku puzzle in his newspaper than in the reasons Ryouma had spent a week on Personal Leave and now wanted the first mission that would take him out of Konoha. "Things're always slow at the beginning of the week," he said, poking through the open-assignment missions stacked on his desk. "There's a B-rank surveillance out in Mangrove Country, but--"
"I need somethin' with less time to think," Ryouma said. "Team'd be good." Dammit, where were Arata and Hiroyuki when he needed them? "There's not anything up by the Lightning Country border, is there? Near the post that replaced the Dainichi Nyorai Temple Base?"
"Operations there are extremely limited right now," the chuunin said firmly. "But... Hold on a sec." He swiveled his chair around to paw through another basket of sealed scrolls. "You said your name was Tousaki, right? Then you're just in time. Another two days and they'd probably have pulled you off Personal Leave for this one, or assigned someone else. Reiko-san must've been keeping this one back for you. You're good with straightforward assassinations, aren't you?"
( 'My specialty,' Ryouma said. 'Who's coming along for the ride?' ) |
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| The Devil's Got My Secret (Tsume/Ryouma) |
[Nov. 12th, 2009|11:22 am] |
Backdated. Takes place March 31, the day after All We Know Is Distance, the day before Tsume leaves on her mission with Asuma inFire and Water, and five days before Kakashi wakes up in Welcome to My Morning.
"Ryouma," Kuromaru said, pausing in the apartment doorway, "is still not in his room."
Tsume slid the whetstone along her kunai, glancing over at her familiar. He looked highly disapproving. Her lips twitched. "Well, Kuromaru, if you're going to let him be the alpha, he can go wherever he wants."
"I know." Kuromaru walked inside, stiff-legged and unhappy. "He's probably with Kakashi still."
Tsume felt that golden eye narrow at her, and tried not to react.
"You know they're mounting each other."
Tsume snorted a laugh. "Pup, Kakashi's in a coma." If Ryouma's clone hadn't found them the night before to let them know where Ryouma was and why -- with instructions that they could visit if they brought food -- rumor would have still told her about Kakashi. ANBU were almost as good at fighting as they were at gossip.
"Well." Kuromaru flopped down. "We should go check on him."
She almost said they didn't need to hover -- which was true -- but... it was nice to see a friendly face, even if you were just sitting with a hospitalized friend, rather than hospitalized yourself. It wasn't like Ryouma had other family to visit -- or Kakashi either, though she wasn't sure if Kakashi would even appreciate guests. And Ryouma probably was bored.
Tsume stood, opening the chest she'd planted at the foot of her bed. Her armor was still heaped in a corner, but now her clothes and various bits and pieces were at least dumped into the chest, instead of strewn across the floor. She dug around until she found a deck of cards, then slipped them into the pocket of her cargos. ( They could stop by and get okonomiyaki, too, which would probably make Ryouma happier than any friendly face. ) |
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| Feuds and Families [Asuma, Tsume, the Sandaime] |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|05:21 pm] |
Set two days after Kunoichi and Bastards.
As he walked down one of the many twisting corridors of ANBU's hospital wards, Sarutobi Hizuren re-read the battered scroll in his hand and contemplated the new shape of the universe. As ANBU missives went, the scroll wasn't even slightly succinct. Or typical.
dear konoha, it read,
we've landed in inabe. (staying at the Salted Goose Hotel--and no, we didn't ask about the name) we need an extration team for two ninja, chakra depleted but only slightly injured, (SLIGHTLY?) and a lot of money. you wouldnt believe how much food asuma goes through, even though hes not eating meat. he says its okay because its on
(hey! she eats at LEAST as much as I do. More considering she's half a foot tall.)
we have your tickbit thing you wanted and i expect you to explain to hariuchi why i was on a mission before being released. hopefully before i get back.
tell kuromaru i'm fine.
(and tell that pretty desk chuunin I'm bringing her back something sparkly)
your faverite agents,
Inuzuka Tsume and
(P.S. Checked in under the names Yamaguchi Tsubame and Yamaguchi Arata. Staying in room 312. Bring lots of painkillers. GOOD painkillers.)
Lips twisting dryly, he read one of the scrawling additions again. It was strange how little the handwriting had changed, despite five years and a continent's worth of distance. He could remember reading identical scrawls on assignments carried home from the academy--and on walls, in lengthy, misspelled graffiti that gained height as the artist had grown.
He remembered several (dozen) shouting matches on the subject of defacing one's own village.
Of course, being the Hokage, he remembered many things. Including the last sight of a gawky, ill-tempered, impatient teenager storming out of the village to get some damn freedom, dad! And the man he'd become, strolling back.
And joining ANBU.
The Sandaime reached the right door, inclined his head to one of the nurses hurrying by, and let himself in. The scroll vanished into one of his wide robe-pockets, whisked neatly out of sight; he didn't need it anyway, it was already two days old. And the 'faverite agents' it concerned were neatly installed in clean, comfortable--
Completely abandoned hospital beds.
The Sandaime raised his eyebrows at the little party of humans--and one large, ragged Inuzuka familiar--splayed about on the floor, arguing over cards.
"Is this a bad moment?" he inquired. |
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| All My Regrets Are Nothing New. [Kakashi & Ryouma] |
[Oct. 30th, 2009|10:39 pm] |
Takes place seven hours after Welcome to My Morning, and begins two hours before The Little Things Give You Away
This time, when Kakashi woke up, it was with the little mental click of reality slotting back into place. He knew where he was, and why he was there. He knew that Ginta was across the hall, Tsuyako was in the ground, and Ryouma--
Was fast asleep in a chair.
Stiffly, Kakashi raised himself up on one elbow and glanced around the room. The clock said he'd been asleep for at least seven hours, but nothing much had changed. There were more food wrappers in a crumpled heap around the rubbish bin (Ryouma must have eaten), a stack of Intel forms on the rickety bedside table, and a pile of neatly folded black clothes at the foot of the bed: Kakashi's clothes, with a mask on top.
So Ryouma had paid attention to his free pass into Kakashi's room.
Kakashi raked a hand through oily grey hair, pulling it out of his eyes, and decided he was okay with that. Well, mostly okay with that. Ryouma wouldn't be curious enough to mess with his scrolls, at least; not if he couldn't read them.
Welded metal bed-struts creaked quietly as he shoved himself back against the pillows and looked at the man. Ryouma had curled himself up into the ugly vinyl chair, long legs folded beneath him, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head resting against a stolen hospital pillow. Definitely there, not easy to miss, but taking up as little space as possible. Which was not surprising, given that he'd probably had to negotiate for his right to be there all week.
The red Atomic Sunrise hoodie was draped across his stomach and wedged beneath one arm, a makeshift blanket. He breathed soft and slow, eyes not even flickering beneath their lids; too tired to dream, probably, if the fresh hollows in his face were any indicator.
( Good. That would make things easier. ) |
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| Reconaissance and Recovery [Haruichi, Katsuko] |
[Oct. 28th, 2009|06:03 pm] |
Takes place directly after Celestial Navigation.
With Haruichi tracking, it'd taken them a scant half-hour to locate the fortress. By that time the moon had come out, throwing their shadows into sharp relief on the blank white desert. Eerie quiet reigned as they closed in on their destination, with not even the soft whisper of booted feet upon the sand to give their presence away.
Katsuko kept her eyes trained on Haruichi’s back as she ran, trusting the Hyuuga to lead the way. The byakugan and his encyclopedic knowledge of the stars made him more of an expert on this bit than her; all she had to do was focus on providing backup. She skimmed her fingers over the hilt of her mother’s katana, double-wrapped and oiled with balm to protect against the harsh desert winds. The mission brief had said to expect heavy resistance. She’d be ready.
The Intel bastard had been half-right: the bunker was near a cliff, and a godsdamned mountain range. It’d be pushing it to call it the ‘Cliff of Sorrows’, though. Looked more like the ‘Sad Little Half Hill’. The bunker itself almost dwarfed the cliff, its builders having added onto the original design since Konoha had obtained the floor plan. It clung to the side of the mountain like a parasitic mass; obviously, the architects thought that normal geometric designs were for weaklings. The bunker itself was divided into round little ‘pods’, similar to the structure of Sunagakure. Bridges manned by hidden guardsmen connected each ‘pod’ to each other, leaving Katsuko with the impression of a giant insect nest glued to the side of the mountain. Mountain range and attached bunker were located in the deepest part of a desert valley, shielded by genjutsu that had taken all of Katsuko’s and Haruichi’s skill to see through.
Now both Konoha ANBU were crouched behind a stand of boulders on the lip of the valley mouth, looking down on the slumbering bunker below. Katsuko raised an eyebrow at the size of the thing. Rather more than two ANBU could handle.
Good thing she’d brought extra explosive tags. |
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| Celestial Navigation [Haruichi, Katsuko] |
[Oct. 25th, 2009|07:16 pm] |
[Backdated!! Set on March 3rd, not long after Can't Choose Your Family]
Huh.
Well as first days went, this one hadn't been so bad. Katsuko set up her things in her new apartment and laid traps around her soon-to-be permanently opened window. Then she wandered around HQ, learned nothing about its layout, and got hopelessly lost. Somehow, she made it back to her room for a quick catnap that ended up lasting several hours.
And then that message summoning her to a mission debriefing came.
Katsuko sighed and eyed the lone couch in the room. It didn't look nearly long enough to accommodate her lounging frame. Briefly, she considered sprawling out on the floor to continue her nap.
Then the door slammed open and her mission partner stalked in. |
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awake
sleepy
confused